Stories, Reviews, Things.

Dalai Lama

The TV reaches into our apartment,
underneath its face glows your grin
of contentment. It means something
larger, weaving words into truth.
And I sit and try to swallow
another morsel of bread-mold.
I am only twelve and already know
that we should be good. Yet I want to know
how, but you keep going
to the next line.